


despair arc || a bramble crown made of bronze

by BloodyCarnage



Series: Hinanami Role Swap AU [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: (kinda), :), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dangan Ronpa 3: Despair Arc, Despair Era (Dangan Ronpa), F/M, Gen, Hope vs. Despair, Human Nanami Chiaki, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Kamukura Izuru Doesn't Exist, Nanami Chiaki Lives, POV Hinata Hajime, Pre-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Role Swap, Torture, Ultimate Talent Development Plan (Dangan Ronpa), Vomiting, and hajime, despair arc episode 10 spoilers, i wrote this during online class, i'm sorry chiaki, my dramatic ass wrote something straight out of a tv show, possible sequel?, this is what happens if you max out all of the free time events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26245864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodyCarnage/pseuds/BloodyCarnage
Summary: I'm so tired.It's fine, right?Everything will be okay....right?He wraps a slippery hand around the doorknob.Twist.The door slowly creaks open.
Relationships: Enoshima Junko & Hinata Hajime (minor) (implied) (one-sided), Enoshima Junko/Nanami Chiaki (implied), Hinata Hajime & Everyone, Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito (implied), Hinata Hajime & Yukizome Chisa, Hinata Hajime/Nanami Chiaki
Series: Hinanami Role Swap AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906615
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	despair arc || a bramble crown made of bronze

**Author's Note:**

> second fic bois!!!!! pog  
> i'm sorry i tried to make this remotely coherent please believe me  
> if you catch any unexplained plot holes and/or characterization mistakes it's probably because of my small brain  
> or you can blame it on utdp's unclear premise  
> please forgive me  
> this has just been plaguing my mind for about a month now  
> i needed to write this for closure  
> thanks

He’s nervous and scared. The atmosphere in this secret underground bunker is tense and suffocating, and he feels uneasy, following his favorite teacher, Yukizome Chisa. He wants to break the silence, to occupy his mind from wandering to dark places, and to reassure him from jumping at every little shadow cast around the corners, but he can't think of any conversation topics appropriate for this situation they’re in. 

Abruptly, Chisa stops in her tracks. “We’re here.”

_...Huh? What does she mean by that?_ He can’t see anything of note, except for the intricate sci-fi-like patterns etched on the walls of this concrete hallway that seems to stretch on forever and ever...

She starts talking, a bright, chirpy tone that gives him whiplash and throws him off guard. “You know, it’s admirable how you managed to unite the entire class. When the school year began, barely anyone came to class! Everyone was off doing one thing or another by themselves,” She turns to look at him. Her face is shadowed by the dim corridor lights, casting an ominous shade on her eyes. 

“Honestly, what a bunch of rotten oranges. Even Chiaki and her games couldn’t bring them all together! I had such high expectations for her too...” Her lips are twisted in an exaggerated, disappointed pout. “But then, you came along!” She’s beaming proudly now. “Hinata Hajime! Everyone admires you, the kind, reliable boy from the Reserve Course who spent time with everyone, and did his best to listen to their worries and concerns. I’m pretty sure some of them even have a crush on you...” She winks.

“Yukizome-sensei...?” Although the topic was innocuous enough, it’s hardly the time to have this conversation. _Why is she...?_

A terrible, foreboding feeling surfaces in his chest. Her gaze is intense. He feels extremely uncomfortable under her scrutiny; it makes him feel like he was being taken apart, made clear like an open book for anyone to see.

Suddenly, he catches it. ( _Too late._ ) Something is unsettling about her smile, something malicious and unhinged, something that makes his skin crawl and shiver. His heart is beating loudly in his ears, his skin feels clammy under his plain white shirt. With trembling, shaking hands, he roughly loosens his tie, then tightens it again. Despite all that, he somehow still manages to keep a (mostly) blank expression on his face.

She takes a big step towards him, hands in a gentle yet firm grip around his shoulders. 

“Without you, none of them would be where they are now.” Her smile is more subdued, now.

Every instinct in his body is now screaming for him to flee, to run away and never come back, that Yukizome Chisa is dangerous, that this situation is **_wrongwrongwrong_ ** **-**

He stands frozen in place, toes curled, unable to move, posture so stiff and uncomfortable he can practically feel his spinal cord crack.

The world around the two is deathly silent, as if holding its breath for what was about to come next.

Something slides open behind him, but he can’t turn around to investigate, his shoulders still held in place by the teacher.

**_“That’s why... you were chosen!”_ **

**...**

As he slowly sinks beneath the ground, he can’t do anything except stare transfixed in horror. 

At Yukizome Chisa’s laughing, _sneering_ face.

**“It’s time for Hinata-kun’s punishment!”**

* * *

Something’s trickling down his face.

He’s pretty sure it’s blood; it’s hard to mistake the tangy taste of iron on his lips and on his tongue.

He grunts loudly as he hoists his injured foot over another tile, narrowly avoiding a circular buzzsaw speeding through the floor cracks. 

_Click._

“Shit!” He barely managed to get out a curse before a huge metal stake pierced through his sneakers and into his left foot.

“Upupupu!” The strawberry blonde _devil_ on the monitor jeered. “Awwwwww, poor _wittle_ Hajime, or should I say, _Reserve Course student_ #6209? How’s the Ultimate Dungeon of Death been treating you so far? Oh wait, you're not even an Ultimate! Whoops!” She taunts in a cutesy voice.

He clenches his jaw. _Enoshima Junko._

“Why... are you doing this? What did you do to Yukizome-sensei?”

“Ahhhh, _sooooo_ many questions!” Junko says through the monitor. Her hands are on her hips now, an air of regality around her. “Buuuuuuuut, I suppose I could reveal my motives to you filthy peasants. You see, it’s all for **despair**! Exhilarating, orgasmic, glorious **_despair_** that makes you want to explode and rot in a corner like a pile of flesh and bones. And with your death, I’m gonna make all your _pwecious fwiends_ feel it!”

“You-! You won’t get away with this, Enoshima!”

He... _he can’t die here_. His friends... he could confidently say that they were the best things that had happened to him at this school. They'd single-handedly made him feel more welcome than the _entire fucking_ Reserve Course had. That's why... that's why he has to find Chiaki, and get back to them safe and sound. Then maybe... No matter. Anything else doesn't matter. He **_can’t_** let them fall into despair.

If that happened... If they did... _If_ ** _he_** **_let them..._**

He fights down the bile rising from his stomach and the dark thoughts spiraling in his mind. He can’t die here. He **_won’t_** die here. He lays a bloodied hand on one of the screens to steady himself, smearing the smugly grinning face of Enoshima Junko with blood.

The sight alone is enough to stir up some satisfaction and contempt from deep in his heart.

Monotone. “You’re probably wondering how you ended up in this situation.”

A record scratch plays through the speakers. He doesn’t laugh.

“Aww, nothing? Tough crowd. Still, why _you_ , right? Truthfully, it originally wasn’t even going to be you! But you see, a **_certain_ **_little birdie_ told me that you, loved and relied upon by everyone, would be a _far_ better choice. So I changed my mind! Don’t you feel honored, Hajimeme _dear_?”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, he raises a middle finger to the camera in spite and keeps working his way through the labyrinth.

“Be stubborn all you want, there won’t be any miracles for you, Mr. Hinata Hajime! None of that _power of friendship_ crap; your death will be the one that dyes them _all_ in despair!”

_I... won’t give up! Me, my friends, Chiaki, and... Yukizome-sensei. I won’t let you win! It won’t end like this!_

_**"Now then, show me your hopes and dreams, and watch me crush them all in the name of despair!"** _

* * *

He’s _so_ close.

He can see the heavy wooden door with the bright yellow **GOAL** sign printed on it, dull golden doorknob glinting from a distance; he can practically feel it. _It’s so close._

His right eyelashes are crusted with blood from where the metal shot put balls collided with his forehead just moments ago; his left arm bleeding profusely from where the flying sickle whizzed past and sliced his shoulder up; both his legs barely holding up ever since his thighs were skewered with harpoons around the halfway mark.

He’s desperately trying to hold back the tears of relief that would surely pour out if he lets loose now. _It’s the exit!_ His mental state’s barely held together by threads at this point, nearly ready to break and burst at the seams at the slightest touch.

_I made it..._

_I’m so close._

_It’s almost over._

_This is the end..._

He’s limping faster now, weakly dragging along his injured foot as he slowly approaches his destination.

_Through this door..._

He can’t think straight anymore; the pain is overloading his nervous system, his mind muddled and addled with adrenaline and stimulation.

_This door..._

He vaguely registers a small, rational voice in his head borderline _screaming_ at him, at how this is so clearly, obviously a trap, at how he should just turn away, and wait for the help he knows _probably_ isn’t coming. _Do not go through that door. Do not..._

The fleeting thought fades away before he seriously considers it.

_I’m so tired._

_It’s fine, right?_

_Everything will be okay._

_...right?_

He wraps a slippery hand around the doorknob.

_Twist._

The door slowly creaks open.

_That’s right..._

He cracks a weak smile.

_The future..._

_The light is blinding._

His eyes crinkle in joy, in hopefulness. Through his blurry vision blinded by tears, he sees...

_Teruteru..._

_Nekomaru..._

_Akane..._

_Imposter..._

_Mahiru..._

_Hiyoko..._

_Ibuki..._

_Mikan..._

_Kazuichi..._

_Gundham..._

_Sonia..._

_Fuyuhiko..._

_Peko..._

_Nagito..._

_Yukizome-sensei..._

_Chiaki._

_They’re smiling proudly. At me. They all are. I’m… I’m back, everyone!_

He has to resist the urge to break down on the spot, to kneel and cry his heart out. He breaks into a wide grin.

His vision clears a little.

_Wait._

_Someone isn’t smiling._

_Chiaki...?_

_Why?_

He feels a pair of soft hands on his shoulders, and he is shoved back. ( ~~ _Why?_~~ ) Slipping and stumbling in a puddle of blood that had pooled under his soles, he fell backward. ( ~~ _How?_~~ ) 

He glimpses a sharp glint from under him in the corner of his eye. _Spears,_ his mind supplies. _Sharp and pointy._ He can’t do anything except squeeze his eyes shut as they rush up to meet him ( _ ~~or is it him that is falling to meet them?~~_ )

**...**

A choked, silent, pained scream resounds. It bounces and reverberates off the walls, and two people alone are there to hear it.

* * *

Suddenly, he’s staring at the dark ceiling.

_I... Huh?_

**_What just happened?_ **

“Gah... _Agh_...”

He's gasping for air. He can feel his blood pooling in his lungs, staining his uniform, dirtying the floor. He hacks out a clump of blood; it lands and splatters all over the front of his shirt.

In his bloodied haze, he hears faint steps to the right of him. He attempts to crane his neck towards the sound, but his head is painfully held in place by the iron bars, so he can’t see whoever it is.

He gets his wish shortly after, as the spears retract, and he lands on the floor with a grotesque, wet squelch. 

( ~~ _Somewhere, someone cuts the last strings of a dangling puppet, stretched taut, with a wretched grin on her face._~~ )

* * *

He’s losing consciousness. 

Black spots are popping up in his vision. There’s dark edges at the edge of his vision, the telltale signs of blood loss, and hypovolemic shock.

He can barely crack one eye open; the other is caked shut with blood.

He vainly tries to push up from the floor. It’s no use; his palms scrabble for purchase on the slippery floor, slick with his own blood. Even if he tried anyway, he’s hurt so badly that even turning slightly would send excruciating pain throughout his body.

Eventually, he stops trying. Instead, he lifts his head, trying to get a better look at the person who pushed him. ( ~~ ** _he already knows; he just doesn’t want to acknowledge it_**~~ )

It’s someone he recognizes, someone he is _intimately familiar_ with.

At this point, he stops struggling. The blood loss was already too great; he knows by now that he only has an infinitesimally small chance of surviving this ordeal. And besides...

He...

There were so many things he could have said at that moment.

He could have given a heartfelt, emotional speech about how everyone has the ability to grasp their own future, how the future is like a vast ocean, how the future is not set in stone, not by talent, but by your own force of will. About how if you just do it, if you follow through on your decision, everything will turn out alright in the end.

He could have given a list of sorrowful regrets, of what could have been, of how he still wanted to do so many things in life, of how he still wanted to hang out more with his friends, of how he had finally found a skill he could call his own, and although he wasn’t the best at it, he still wanted to help other people with it, and now he wouldn’t have the chance at all to do any of those things.

He could have sniveled and begged in a pitiful display of clinging on to life, pleading for his life, for someone to save him, for Mikan, for Fuyuhiko, heck, even for Nagito, to come and help him, as if they could even hear him in the first place. Maybe even grovel at Junko’s feet, prostrate himself in her servitude, for her to patch him up and save him, so he could live another day.

He could have lashed out in indignation, in resentment, at the unfairness of this whole situation, at his premature death, at Junko, at Chisa, at everyone, at himself, at whatever benevolent god who found it fit to put him through this, at _someone_. Cried out bitterly in anger, in pain about his frustrations, and his regrets, and his woes, and a billion other things.

He could have muttered sweet white lies under his breath, in reassurance, in comfort, in blind denial, and block out everything around him, to drown in a made-up peaceful world, until the inevitable outcome of his current predicament is reached, and the illusion is destroyed.

...

In the end, only three words were uttered. Only three were needed, to near perfectly encapsulate and convey the whirlwind of emotions and desires whirling inside his delirious mind right then.

“ _I forgive you_.”

He parts his lips wider, as if wanting to say something else, but then he is silent for a moment, then closes his mouth again. No more words come out of his mouth.

His eyelids droop lower, and lower still.

At last, Hinata Hajime, Reserve Course student, takes his last breath away with him.

...

He goes still.

In the stale air lingering after his departure, three more words were unspoken.

* * *

_“I...”_

* * *

In a dimly-lit room, Yukizome Chisa stands motionless before an array of monitors, all focused and centered on one scene only. Although no emotion is visible in her expression, if you looked closely into her once-emerald green eyes, you would see...

* * *

Sitting in a plush armchair like a queen is Enoshima Junko in all her glory. She rests her face on her palm. Her grin is stretched impossibly wide, now. In contrast to her smug countenance, however, her brilliant blue eyes are analytical and cold. They sweep over the gory scene, the one that she made happen through her own manipulations and machinations. Parting her lips, she whispers something only herself could possibly hear...

* * *

Fourteen high school students are present, underneath Hope’s Peak Academy, in a small room nearby lined with sixteen trial stands arranged in a circle. Although just minutes ago, they were still cheering for the boy to make it through the dungeon in excitement, now they are all silent. Despite the tears streaming down from their swirl-filled eyes, they have matching smiles on their faces; contradictory emotions inside them, warring and clashing for control. In the end, one wins out. The white-haired luckster stands with a grandiose pose with hope and despair in his eyes, and proclaims with all his heart...

* * *

There’s no one else there. Only her and her alone.

The fresh corpse is right before her.

Her short, pale mauve locks are quivering. On closer inspection, her entire body is shuddering; quiet, muffled sobs are escaping from under her sleeves; they echo around the empty hallway. She tries desperately to protect her nose from the overwhelming assault of the sickeningly dry, sweet, metallic scent, and keep in the vomit from escaping; it doesn’t work. It spills all around and mixes with the sanguine pools on the floor in a foul blend of sickly yellow and blood red.

In a sudden flash of clarity, her eyes that spiraled in a twisted amalgamation of black and white returned to their original color for a moment; a soft, vibrant pink. Much like her former classmates, wet tear streaks ran parallel; straight down her cheeks. However, her eyes held so much more emotion; regret, guilt, nausea...

She takes in a sharp, deep breath, and...

* * *

_...a great deal of sadness, and mourning for her student._

* * *

“ _With your death... the oncoming storm of_ ** _despair_ **_will finally arrive... Thank you for your sacrifice._ ”

* * *

“ ** _Ahhhhhh... The death of a shining hope! You, too, will become an excellent stepping stone for the Ultimate Hope! I’m so_ ** ~~**_un_**~~ ** _lucky to be able to witness this moment_**!”

* * *

**“Hajime...”**

* * *

She kneels down.

Something has fallen out of his jacket pocket, through the commotion and turmoil.

Something rectangular, blue, and metallic.

...

She recognizes it, and it breaks her heart ( ~~ **sends her further into despair**~~ ).

The black-and-white swirls gradually fade back into her eyes.

With great tenderness, she puts it into her hoodie pocket.

She stands up, and walks away.

* * *

_Some time later_...

Togami Byakuya speaks into the intercom.

“The leader of the Remnants of Despair has been captured. I repeat, the leader of the Remnants of Despair has been captured.”

He glances over to the female currently sitting at a desk, staring forlornly out a window in a classroom in the dilapidated ruins of Hope’s Peak Academy.

“The Hope Restoration Program is a go.”

( ~~The USB stick sits uncomfortably inside her hoodie pocket, next to a blue handheld console, stained with dried blood, its battery long since run out.~~ )

**Author's Note:**

> so this is an AU... uhhhhhhhhh i'll post some of the details that didn't make it into the fic to the series notes if anyone wants them
> 
> i wanted to write some fluff to precede the despair, but alas, i only have a penchant for despair and death. well, hopefully the emotional impact (read: despair) wasn't lost.  
> this is actually a prologue, a part of a three part series that i'm planning to write that covers also dr2 and future/hope arc that i hope i can actually finish.  
> too bad i'm a slow writer. and also unmotivated. and also bad at writing.  
> thank you for reading and sorry for torturing best boy hajimeme  
> as always comments, thoughts, suggestions, gentle criticism and even harsh criticism are all welcomed  
> (please comment it waters my soul)
> 
> also if you haven't read MixnSpice's fic Farewell to Thee, Normality please do it was a big inspiration of this fic


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